Narconon- Rehab Series- Part 36
A couple days have passed since I informed Curtis Maxwell about Vinny’s violation. They have put us on a no comm. I am more than okay with this arrangement; however, Vinny has been running his mouth about me to anyone who will listen.
“Yeah dude, he told everyone in sauna about you having Hep. C,” Misty informs me.
“What the fuck? Are you kidding me right now? What exactly did he say?” I ask. I am so angry I am shaking.
“He called you a dumb junkie bitch and bragged about how at least he wasn’t dying of Hepatitis C,” she elaborates.
“That’s fucking it! Are you kidding me right now? He has no right to talk about my medical issues with new students. It is my decision concerning who I talk to about that!” I scream.
I am so angry, I race down to the ethics office. The metal gate slams behind me. Devon Lex, the tall, basketball playing ethics officer comes out of the ethics office to escort me back, as he can hear me screaming in the main reception office, demanding to speak with him.
“How can I help you Miss Brown?” He asks.
“You better check your boy Vinny before I fucking end him. He is telling all of the sauna students that I am a junkie bitch with Hep. C. That is bullshit. I don’t walk around making fun of him for what I can only perceive to be mental retardation! He has no fucking right. We signed the no comm. agreement and I feel this is a violation not only of the no comm., but also, basic confidentiality rights!” I scream.
“I agree Miss Brown,” Devon says. His tone is almost sarcastic; however, he ensures me that he will have a talk with him.
I stomp out of the office and back towards the lodge. As I make my way up the steps, Vinny walks by me with Curtis. It appears he is being escorted down to the ethics office. He smirks in my direction and I meet his snide face with a growling, cold stare. My animal like instincts to protect myself are like that of a Pitbull about to bite at his fucking neck. I restrain myself. Although, I can almost taste the blood of the bite, as my own blood boils in his presence.
“Let it go Liz,” Curtis mumbles under his breath. He can see the smirk on Vinny’s face and knows I am shaking to wipe it off for him.
I guzzle a coffee and smoke a cigarette with Keisha before we are herded to roll call and then over to the Objectives course room for our 4:00 p.m. session. Saturday sessions are less than two hour sessions, so Richard and I were unable to do our two hour TRs. We drilled TR6-TR9 all day instead. Because neither of us had chits, we opted out of Sunday classes. That means today is the day. We already knocked out our TR0 eyes closed before the 3’o clock break. When we get back, it will be eyes open.
“Are you ready to do this twin?” He asks with an eye roll.
My mind is consumed with how badly I want to knock Vinny out and I don’t acknowledge him.
“Hello,” he says while waving his hand back and forth in front of my face. “Are you ready twinny twin twin?”
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah I guess. Ready as I will ever be,” I respond.
“TR0 eyes open for two hours, start,” Makayla commands.
The course room is a zoo. Bolts and Brian are circulating our surrounding area.
“Daddy,” Bolts begins in his high pitched Mickey Mouse voice. “Why does mommy’s shirt say Hooters.”
Richard’s face shows how annoyed he is by this. I press my lips together to keep from smiling. Several of the other objective students are laughing. These types of shenanigans continue around us for what feels like an eternity. It is very difficult not to laugh.
Keisha walks by and mumbles under her breath, “One more hour.”
Thank God. We are halfway there. My ass is sore. After our two hour TR eyes closed earlier, sitting for another two hours is proving most uncomfortable. We are not allowed to even adjust in our seats. My sciatic nerve is flaring up and I try to shift in my chair without being noticed.
“Keep it together Liz,” Makayla calls out.
Damn, she is always watching. My nose begins to itch. It is begging for me to scratch it. I begin to wiggle it back and forth like I dream of Jeannie. This causes Richard to break his confront with a little smirk. He quickly regains his composure. If I were to scratch this itch, we would be flunked and have to start all over again. The knowledge of this seems to aggravate the itch. Its incessant demand for its scratch is almost too much to handle.
I can see the area behind Richard. There is a student doing Reaches. Reaches are a part of the program that requires you to reach for things that are triggers to your specific addiction(s) and to withdraw from them (Needles, pipes, bottles, pills etc..). A student runs you through them and documents your reactions on paper. Usually the student designated is farther along in the program and when possible, is a student that did not share that addiction. Meaning, if you were an alcoholic and required to reach and withdraw from a wine bottle, the student running the session would likely be an opiate addict who didn’t have issues with alcohol.
I am no where near that part of the program. Despite there being a partition meant to block students from seeing what is going on in the cubicle, there is a crack in my sight and I can see this person is reaching and withdrawing from a crack pipe. Narconon does its best to make it as real as possible. There is a baggie of a substance resembling crack on the table. I realize in this moment, one day I will be the student in the cubicle. Only I will be reaching for a substance resembling heroin, needles, charred foils, a meth like substance and meth pipe. My heart begins to race at this realization. I am not ready for that. I don’t even smoke crack, but watching this unfold before my eyes, has my mouth salivating at the idea of smoking some. Why won’t this desire to get high go away? Tarantula still never got his package.
“TR0 eyes open for two hours, complete. Great job guys,” Makayla calls out while clapping.
The rest of the course room claps for us. The session is over and it is time to hop onto the vans for dinner.
“I can’t believe we did it,” Richard says excitedly.
“I can’t either. My ass is so sore from sitting in those chairs,” I reply. We both laugh.
Once back at the center, I make my way through the chow line with Keisha and out to the dining area. I can see Vinny smugly smirking in my direction. I opt to sit with my back to him to avoid observing his smug existence.
“Are you happy to be done with your two hours?” Keisha asks.
“Oh fuck yeah,” I respond. “I can’t wait to start Objectives.”
“That’s what you say now,” she laughs. “As soon as you hit Objective 2, you will be singing a different tune!”
“I bet. I remember I couldn’t wait to get into sauna and then once in, I wanted out. Then after I got out of sauna, I wish I had milked it for a few more days,” I laugh. “This whole program sucks ass. I just want to be done. If it wasn’t for the students, I would have walked my ass down the mountain.”
“I know. It’s like fuck. Every single step of this program is torture, but having friends around you makes it tolerable,” Keisha concurs.
“Oh hey,” Justice interrupts.
“Hey,” both Keisha and I respond.
“Misty and I EP’d sauna and are coming over to Objectives tomorrow,” she says excitedly.
“Hell yeah,” I reply.
“Are you ready to smoke yet?” Keisha asks.
“No, I got to eat my fruit chica. It’s okay, go smoke with Justice and Misty. I’ll be out in a minute,” I suggest.
The dining area has thinned out. Vinny is sitting next to Chanel behind me. I can hear him taunting me, as my heart begins to race.
“At least I don’t go run and tattle tale to ethics. What a baby waa waa,” he taunts, imitating baby sounds.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I call out, without ever turning around to face him.
“Somebody can’t handle having their shoulders rubbed. Boo fucking hoo,” he continues.
“Shut your fucking mouth, or I will shut it for you,” I say, angrily. This time I turn and glare at him before turning back around.
“It’s not a shock to anyone that you have Hep. C, you talk about it openly, but if I say something the whole world is coming to an end,” he continues.
I slam my fists on the table, jump up and run over to where he is sitting. I slam my fist on his table, lean over, position myself at eye level and warn him,
“You better shut the fuck up right now bitch, or you’re going to be counting your teeth before they hit the fucking floor!”
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You fucking dirty needle sharing junkie bitch. You’re a fucking cunt!” He exclaims.
Before I can respond, Rome has made his way over to the table. Rome is over 6 feet tall, very muscular build and has that deep, sexy voice. Today it is very low, calm, collected and stern. He stands between Vinny and I and says,
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that. I don’t care what you think she may have done. You do not talk to a female that way again. If I hear you talking to Liz, or any other female that way again, you are going to have to answer to me. Got it?” He asks, while flexing. His eyes have a cold, gray stare that would cause anyone to piss themselves when accompanied by those words.
I am shaking with rage. John Tiger, from ethics has made his way into the area. My fist is clenched and my mind races with the idea of literally knocking out his teeth. Tess Jetman grabs my arm and walks me outside.
“It’s okay Liz. Calm down and cool off. Let ethics handle Vinny,” she instructs.
Her voice is soothing and calm, but I am enraged. I walk to my room and sit on my bed. I am so angry I can’t sit still. I throw my earbuds in and scream at the top of my lungs with Linkin Park’s song, One Step Closer. My adrenaline is pumping. I shouldn’t be confined to my fucking room! This mother fucker has no right to attack me and talk about my fucking Hep. C. I walk out of my room, earbuds still in, with my song on repeat.
As I make my way around the corner, I can see Vinny talking with John Tiger on the track. His hands are flailing about. I pull my headphones out to hear that Vinny is calling me names and suggesting that he wants John Tiger to call the police on me for verbal assault. He sees me, crosses his arms and smiles. That Pitbullish animal instinct resurfaces. My heart is pounding, my blood is boiling and I am ready to attack. I run full speed towards him, screaming that I am going to fucking kill him…
Today’s Theme Song- One Step Closer- Linkin Park
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**DISCLAIMER: This is my personal experience at a Narconon Rehabilitation Center. This is not an expose or journalistic documentation. It is not meant to bash the program in any way, or suggest that it is the only rehab facility that works for recovery. I have been clean and sober since 09-27-13 and attribute much of that success to this program. All of the names in this series have been changed to protect the identity of my friends and sober family’s privacy! Thank you for reading!**